


Fade to Dust

by EAVanGeek



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: ABANDONED WORK (for now), Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials Fusion, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-09-17 22:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9348689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EAVanGeek/pseuds/EAVanGeek
Summary: Daemons are considered the last “gift” of the Maker, for though he left us, he still wished for us to know that his children were loved.-Brother GenitiviAs the sky opens and Thedas is thrown into chaos, the Inquisition will rise. Kallak Cadash will become the Inquisitor, but that's not the only thing he has to worry about.Based off my OC's and an idea that Against_Stars started a while back





	1. Prologue

An excerpt from Brother Genitivi, titled Demons or Daemons

_Daemons are considered the last “gift” of the Maker, for though he left us, he still wished for us to know that his children were loved. Daemons are not found with dwarves, and qunari typically have smaller daemons than those of humans and elves.Typically, a person's dæmon is the opposite sex of them. It is uncommon, but not unheard of, for a human and their dæmon to have the same sex._

_In Ferelden culture, having a mabari daemon was considered a sign of high morals, not that of royalty. This however does not stop Ferelden from choosing their leaders from those who do have dog daemons. Nevarra, Antiva, and parts of the Avvar territory hold reptilian/bird daemons with high regard. Tevinter also holds bird daemons in high regard, but for the reason that powerful mages typically have bird daemons. In the case of Magisters, the more exotic the daemon is, the better chances of success. However, there have been cases of mages not having bird daemons, but other daemons. One Magister in recorded history was even known to have a plain house cat daemon, but rose to power nonetheless._

_Qunari in general have smaller daemons, ones that never reach the actual size of what they look like. Drakes and Basilisk daemons are highly praised amongst the Sten and Ashaavad. Very little else is known about the Qunari daemons, and even less is known about the Dalish teachings on daemons._

_As a human and their dæmon are one being, it is physically and emotionally painful for them to separate too far from each other. Death usually followed such separation due to the severe trauma. Mages however, seem to be an exception to this rule, with their daemons being able to travel great distance from their owners. The Chantry allows mages daemons to leave their mages under special circumstances, but it is unknown what happens to the daemons of those who are made Tranquil. All that is known is that the Tranquil no longer have access to their daemons, and thus have lost their connection to the Fade_

_The confusion between a daemon and demon begins with the connection to the Fade. While a demon dwells in the Fade, watching and wanting to be a part of our world, a daemon lives alongside us, guarding us from the Fade itself. When dreaming, the daemon is guide and a protector. The Chantry teaches that “the last gift” was to ensure that demons of the Fade would not corrupt us. Abominations occur when one ignores the pleas of their daemons and fall to sin. However, research and the Circles tell a different story entirely. While a daemon is our connection to the Fade, daemons themselves cannot enter the Fade when we dream. Rather, our daemons are a reflection of what is affecting us while we are in the Fade. Templars have been able to identify those who are abominations, or soon turning into one, by the behaviours of the mage’s daemons. Regardless of which tale is true, our daemons separate us from lesser creatures, and keep us company._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Looks at Dragon Age lore based off the Dalish/Dwarf interactions*  
> *Makes my own b/c there was literally nothing*  
> *Ends up with our Protag for this whole ordeal*  
> Nailed it

The outskirts of Haven were quiet. Snow fell at a calm and leisurely pace, the herd of Druffalo ignoring the dwarven rogue as he searched for the logging stand he needed. Kallak adjusted his tattered bandana on his concave nose. He came over the hill and found the logging stand. He took out his map and marked the spot, and began to head back towards Haven.

Kallak had been declared Herald of Andraste two days ago, after he stabilized a hole in the sky, something all the humans were calling ‘The Breach’. _Guess because ‘Giant Ass Green Fuck-up’ was taken._ He found the frozen lakebed and was more than happy to dust off the powdered snow from his semi-bare feet. Kallak smiled fondly at his Dalish leggings, a gift. The leggings were part of set, his binder made of the same light and durable material.

The dwarf began his trek towards Haven, passing the Chantry sisters and scouts just outside the wooden gates. One Chantry’s sister daemon began to whisper from it’s perch on her shoulder. A grey fox, belonging to the runner who was talking with a soldier, was keeping guard over the yellow spaniel. It did not stop both daemon and person from staring at Kallak. A week ago, he would have assumed it was because he lacked a daemon himself, but now he wasn't so sure.

He approached the gates, pulling his bandana down, to show his face to the guards. One nodded to let him pass, but Kallak felt their daemon’s eyes on the rather large scar that spanned across Kallak’s face. The guard seemed more occupied with looking at his left hand. Varric, the only other dwarf that Kallak knew at Haven, was standing by the fire. He called out for Kallak.

“So now that Cassandra is out of earshot, how you doing?” Varric looked Kallak in eyes, his gaze warm and worried. The older dwarf couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re worried about me? I’m old enough to be your uncle, I think it’s supposed to be the other way around.” Kallak grinned as Varric snorted at the jest, turning back to the fire.

“You go from the most wanted criminal to the figurehead of a religious upstart. Most people try to spread that out over more than a day.”

“Aye, but most people aren’t me, now are they?”

“I suppose not,” Varric grinned back, but his gaze was somewhere else.

“You alright? You look lost.”

“Hmm? Oh, well. Actually I was uh, wondering about-”

  
“The leggings? Or the accent?”

“That obvious?”

“Nah… Just what most people ask after ‘How much for the lyrium?’.”

“Heh, the Carta never leaves you huh?”

“Says the Merchant. Oh, sorry, I mean Business Man.”

Varric laughed, the sound startling one of the scouts who was walking past. Kallak moved closer to the fire, warming his exposed toes and his hands. As comfortable as he was in his leggings, it was approaching winter in Ferelden.

“Alright,” says Varric, “The accent. It’s not really dwarfy, but it’s not exactly the Free Marshes either.”

“How accustomed to the Dalish are you?”

“I had friend who was Dalish, Daisy I called her. She was something, most only saw an innocent face. Hell, she’d fooled me a few times, but she was... Daisy is a good person.”

Kallak looked at Varric, saw his eyes go to somewhere else, probably Kirkwall. The older dwarf scratched at his greying goatee, moving his hand up to rub at his pointed ears.

“My mother was Dalish.” Kallak began, noticing Varric’s attention is now on him, or rather, his ears. “Only ever met her clan once, and I was already an adult by then. But the Cadash House has always had a history with the elves. When I came around, Moma started making sure we helped the travelling clans. I’d always go with her, and when I could walk and smuggle on my own, I’d go with those clans. I’d offer protection, and they’d offer hidden routes for us. I spent more time with halla than I did nugs.”

“Moma Cadash?” Varric asked, “As in- You gotta be shitting me, you’re related to the Godmother of the Carta?”

“Watch your tongue, lad! She was my gran and raised me!” Kallak laughed at the ridiculous face that Varric was pulling. He was glad that was the part of the story the other dwarf clung to, as opposed to his mother.

“You’re full of surprises, Herald.” Varric shook his head, a half grin still on his face. Kallak gave a half-hearted salute to him as he left to go see the Quartermaster.

Thren’s cocker spaniel spotted him first, trotting up towards Kallak. He grabbed the map out of his satchel, letting the daemon know it held locations for Iron Ore and a logging stand outside of Haven. The dog thanked him, and took the map gingerly in his mouth. Kallak then walked up towards the healer’s house. Solas was staring up at the Breach when the dwarf came up.

“Herald of Andraste. An impressive title for someone such as yourself.” Solas turned towards Kallak, his eyes seeming to be searching for something. “I wonder what kind of hero you will be.”

“I’m not a hero.” Kallak said in a brisk tone. “And I told you, my name is Kallak, not Harold.”

Solas paused, and then chuckled to himself.

“Apologies, Hera- Kallak. I was merely wondering what you were wanting this Inquisition to become.” Solas turned to have a seat, Kallak’s brow furrowing at what the apostate said.

“I am not a part of this,” Kallak started, “I’m only staying because I seem to be the only one to seal that giant ass hole up there! You don’t seem to be staying either, if I might add.”

“What would make you think as such?”

“Your daemon isn’t at Haven, for one. For another-” Solas laughed, interrupting Kallak.

“I’m sorry, but I am an apostate. We are surrounded by ex-Templars who would happily lock my daemon up in order to control me. Would you trust your own daemon here?”

“Dwarves don’t have daemons. You’ve been living in the wilderness a wee bit too long if you’ve forgotten that.” Kallak’s temper was becoming shorter by the minute, listening to this tall elf.

Solas face became blank. Between the two of them, the air seemed to have grown even colder. After a moment, Kallak was first to break the silence, a heavy sigh as he forced himself to relax and close his eyes.

“I have a question for you, Kallak.” Solas said, his face was still blank. “Your markings.”

Kallak felt his bald scalp, knowing that his entire skull was covered in tattoos, running down to the back his neck. They were blue and mostly down in a diamond shaped pattern. He used to have the matching tattoos on his cheeks, but now there was a large scar in its place.

“What about them? They just mark me casteless. I’m surprised Varric doesn’t ha-”

“Those weren’t the markings I was thinking of.” Solas paused, as if to gauge Kallak’s anger. When the elf was satisfied he continued. “When I was studying your mark, I noticed that you have vallaslin, or perhaps something similar. Your vambraces have match these markings, though the imprints are rather faint in comparison.”

“Ah.” was all Kallak replied with. Solas raised his eyebrow, as if expecting an answer. “They’re, um.” Kallak cleared his throat and looked away.

“They’re private. To me and- I’d rather not discuss them.” Kallak shifted on his feet. Solas nodded and began to walk away when Kallak coughed again.

“You didn’t- I mean. You didn’t look at anything else of mine?”

“I did not. I only studied the mark.”

“Good.” Kallak replied, and then turned to leave. He didn’t hear Thrask’s comments, and left the small hut after leaving the notes he found in the abandoned cabin. Kallak found himself at the makeshift garrision, watching Cassandra and Troy, her doberman daemon.  _How did I get all the way here_ , he thought to himself, noticing the doberman tear at a training dummy as his human sliced another’s head off. Troy looked up at Kallak, and said something to Cassandra. The woman nodded and went back to her training. Just as Kallak began to walk toward the daemon it called out.

“You don’t have to come closer, Herald.” Troy sat down and looked Kallak in the eye.

“She still mad at me, huh?” Kallak leaned back on a doorframe, ignoring the fact that the doberman was eye to eye with him.

“She is not,” said Troy, “she only wishes to know why you do not believe you are the Maker’s chosen.”

“In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m a dwarf.”

“A dwarf who happens to have walked through the Fade, and lived.” Troy looked back at Cassandra, his steel green eyes trained on her form. The Seeker corrected her stance and continued training. Kallak raised his eyebrow at the daemon and chuckled to himself.

“Something funny?” Troy looked back at the dwarf, a seriousness not unlike Cassandra's own.

“Does she correct you on your form too?” Kallak asked. The doberman snorted.

“We are one person, we must work together as a team.”

“That didn’t answer my question, Troy.”

“... Sometimes she does. It’s harder for her to, since I am a dog and not a warrior.”

“I see.” Kallak chuckled again. “Are you two ready for tomorrow?”

“We are. We shall leave in the early morning. If Varric will actually get up for it.”

“Not worried about my old bones then, are ya?”

“I would hardly call being fifty elderly. Besides, you have lived this long working within the Carta, what’s the Hinterlands compared to such.”

“Yeah,” Kallak drawled, “I wasn’t within the Carta. I was the Carta.”

“Yes, Leliana said something along those lines,” Troy seemed unfazed by the change in conversation. “We were not told the specifics, just that you were high within the Carta ranks.” The doberman paused.

“Ya wanting me to explain it?”

“It would perhaps be wise. I can explain it to Cassandra, and then she will not question you.”

“I thought you two were one person.”

“You are changing the subject.” Troy stood up and gave one short bark at Cassandra, causing her to change her stance and begin a different workout. Kallak grinned, watching the connection they had.

“I’m the head of my house, House Cadash. We run a rather impressive smuggling network, stretches over most of the Free Marshes. I’ve got second cousins who are all scrambling to take my place in the day to day business, but I’m… well, let’s just say there’s a reason my name is Kallak Cadash.”

Troy sat back down, his posture unchanged. Kallak looked at his coat, noticing here and there that the daemon had his own scars. One ran down the side of his front right leg, the hair groomed over the scar as if to hide it.

“What do you mean by that?” Troy’s voice was in the same monotone as it had been the entire conversation, his eyes following Cassandra’s form.

“Kallak means war. In the Carta, Cadash is synonymous to good business and sharp minds. Of course you’ll find sharper knives too.” Kallak was following the line of muscle in the dogs shoulders when it looked at him once more.

“So you are still a criminal, and one who knows how to manipulate people to do your bidding.”

“And you’re what, exactly? A Seeker of Truth isn’t exactly a heart-warming sight from what I’ve heard. Even Templars fear you, but I’m the one not to trusted?”

“It is different, we watch and check the powers within the Templar Order.”

 

“How’d that go, by the way?” Kallak snapped. Troy stopped, and the two of them heard Cassandra break the training dummy.

“We will talk tomorrow, Kallak Cadash.”

“I’m counting on it, Troy of Cassandra Pentaghast.”

The two parted ways, Kallak heading towards the rooms he was given. He shut the door and sat at the bed. He rubbed at his eyes and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Yesterday he had found his gear, just outside of Haven. He uncorked one of his personal potions, the liquid inside a burgundy-grey color. He drank it in one swing, already feeling it’s effects. He pulled out the last letter he received from a contact.

_Old Man,_

_Tall One wants to wish you good luck. Ugly One wants flowers and shem gossip when you return. Ugly One also wants to let you know that plants that contain poison are just as pretty as those that do not. Horned Group has sent their party away, and Tall One is still mad that she was not chosen to go. Personally I still believe that you should not have told the Horned Group’s leader to not put Tall One on, but they are yours first._

_The clan that used to hang around the lake have gone, but some in the Alienage believe they sent people out towards that Shem Conclave. Who cares, those Dalish do not affect us, but other hahrens still cling to old tales and broken tree limbs. Write back when you have made contact, and if you do not I will bring Tall One with me to bring your ass back so I can kick it._

_T._

Kallak pulled out parchment and ink, and began to write back.

_T,_

_Whatever you hear about this Conclave, it’s a lot different. Yes, there is hole in the sky. Yes someone blew that “Big Shem Shrine” up, and yes, an organization calling itself the Inquisition is here. I’m not dead yet. Tell Alex I’ll bring back pretty flowers and Deathroot and she is right, poison is pretty but we must be careful in how we treat it._

_Tell Shokrakar I don’t know where her men are, but they are most likely dead. And thank you. I know Saare will hate me for it, since no doubt you were the one who told her I asked Shokrakar that. Ass._

_DO. NOT. COME. TO. HAVEN._

_To many Shemlen, and not enough dwarven ale, you’d hate it here. I’ll keep you up to date, I don’t think I’ll be back anytime soon. Let the girls know I’m sorry about that._

_Head of House Cadash, Last of his Clan_

_Kallak_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, I'll get to who "T" is, but Saare and Alex are me and my mate's Adaar and Trevelyan. By me and my mate's I mean she came up with them initially and I adopted them. So did Kallak but we'll get to that!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot Building on an already existing story line so that it's interesting is hard af. So if something isn't making sense please let me know I'll try to fix/answer it.

_Everything was green. The sky lacked any stars, the world floating away in large chunks. They were smaller than usual, running between broken gates and pools of water. Now they were high above, no breeze. A something- someone- was laughing at him. They are attacked, falling towards the ground. A city black as sin was far off in the distance, the world falling, crumbling..._

 

Kallak woke up, with his left hand hurting. It also felt as if someone had torn at something deep within him. In the next bedroll, Varric grunted and turned in his sleep. Kallak, still feeling the fear from before, got up and dressed.

 

Scout Harding was entering her own tent when Kallak left his. He looked up to see that the stars were still there, and so was the moon. No large piles of rocks and dead trees floating ominously above his head. The dwarf sighed and walked toward the Redcliffe farms. He had been here only once before, shortly after the Blight had ended. Officially to check on his Orzammar cousins, to ensure that the main supply route for lyrium up to the Free Marshes was stable.

 

“Bad dreams?” Kallak didn’t even notice the stranger coming up from behind.

 

“Dwarves don’t dream, Solas.”

 

“Yet you appear to have experienced one, given that you’re up. In the middle of the night.” the bald elf came to stand next to Kallak, “Alone.”

 

“Not entirely, you are here after all.” Solas only hummed back, leaning heavily on his staff. The relative quiet was calming, the sweat on Kallak’s neck cooling.

 

“May I ask you something, Kallak.”

 

“Sure, not stopping you.”

 

“Why do you despise mages.”

 

“What?” Kallak looked up at the elf, disbelief furrowing his eyebrows

 

“You seem to not enjoy my company. I can only assume it is because I am a mage, since anyone with eyes can see that you have a connection to elves.” Solas turned his head, his face cold and expressionless. “Unless that is why you do not like my presence.”

 

Kallak had to laugh; it was the first time he had since the Conclave.

 

“Solas I don’t hate you at all! Fuck sake, I’ve just gone from being the most wanted dwarf on the surface to suddenly a messiah! All within the span of a week!” Kallak tried to stop laughing, only for it to dissolve into the dwarf giggling, barely able to catch his breath.

“I- yes I suppose that would put anyone in a foul mood.” Solas smiled, watching as Kallak finally stopped. That was when his marked hand decided to act up again.

 

Solas gently took the dwarf’s hand, cradling it. Soft magic hovers over their hands. Kallak doesn’t flinch away, watching as the wisps hover. A memory from a different time comes to him.

 

_Wild white hair, barely held together in its braid. She’s always been taller than him, but that was before she had enough to eat. Now she’s at a healthy weight, concentrating on the bowl in front of her. Sparks from the campfire seem to linger more, the air electrified around her hands and feet. Storm blue eyes look up, a big toothy grin spreads across her face._

 

“There, the mark should not disrupt your sleep anymore.” Solas adjusted his grip on his staff. The memory was gone, just as quickly as it came. Kallak flex his fingers, noting that even the general aches and pains he has are gone.

 

“Thank you.” Kallak whispered, his voice gruff. Solas turned to look the dwarf in the eye, and relaxed.

 

“You should rest, tomorrow we have to speak with Master Dennet.” Solas was still smiling, soft and subdued. He went back towards his tent, leaving Kallak alone in the field.

  


The next morning they found and marked watch tower points, and got rid of the wolf pack that was disrupting farmers. Naturally it was being controlled by a demon who, naturally, decided to fling Kallak across the battlefield. The battle ended with the older dwarf hanging upside on a tree branch, shooting what remained of his arrows and cursing the pack. Varric thought the entire incident was hilarious, so much that he would laugh every mile or so as they looked for the Templar’s hideout. When Varric tripped and landed half in the stream, giving away their location to scout Templars, Kallak was kind enough to return the favour.

 

“Tethras if you fall in another puddle, you better take that big fucker to the left!”

 

“Watch out for the bush, Old Man! Hate to lose you to the sky!”

 

Cassandra and Troy were not entirely amused with the dwarves banter. Troy for his part kept his eye rolling to a minimum, while his counterpart was inclined to hide her disgust at the argument. Even if the scowl was permanent on her face.

 

After the battle, Kallak searched through the camp, and came across some wildflowers. He pulled out a worn leather diary and picked some, placing them in between the pages. Varric cocked his eyebrow, but the older dwarf refused to say anything.

 

“We should head back to Haven, send some men to secure the areas we cleared and build those watch towers.”

 

“ I agree,” Cassandra says, “However Leliana sent a letter. She wants us to retrieve a Warden.”

 

“Alright, let’s go.” Kallak stood up and began to pull his arrows out of the bodies as he passed.

 

“She has not heard from the Wardens in Ferelden, and those in Orlais have- wait what did you just say?” Cassandra sheathes her sword, going to walk beside the dwarf.

 

“I said alright, let’s go.” Kallak climbed down the hill, oblivious to the look that the Seeker was giving him.

 

“You- you are not even a little bit curious about why Leliana wants this Warden?”

 

“Leliana sent us here to find Mother Giselle. We found her. Cullen wanted horses, asked us to talk with Master Dennet and we have. Josephine wanted us to put ourselves out here, maybe solve the small disputes between the mages and templars in the region.” At this Kallak turned and spread his arms, indicating the fallen templar's surrounding them. “We don’t have anything left on that list. Might as well as pick up this Warden or whatever.”

 

“Blackwall. Warden Blackwall.” Troy says, coming to stand beside his human. Solas and Varric watched the three of them talk from a distance.

 

“So let’s go get Warden Blackwall, no big deal.”

 

“Why bother?” says the doberman daemon, “The Wardens have always been secretive, their disappearance is not so unusual.”

 

“Funny, ain’t your organization also secretive? I mean, unless you take the whole “Truth” thing literally.”

 

“The Wardens are _not_ the same thing as us.”

 

“Are you so sure, Cassandra? Besides, Leliana travelled with a Warden years ago, she must trust them enough to go looking for this one.”

 

“This Warden is not the Hero of Ferelden!”

 

“Why would I care who’s a hero of this place, I’m a Marsher.”

 

“We are getting nowhere with this, fine. Let us go and find this Warden Blackwall.” Cassandra marched off, Solas following a few paces away. Kallak raised an eyebrow at Troy.

 

“It’s not that she doesn’t trust Leliana, but the Wardens only exist to end the Blight. Why would they be interested in the Breach.”

 

Kallak grunted, muttering something that sounded like ‘that’s not it’ and walked off. Varric walked beside Troy as the group moved ahead.

 

“You saw him picking those flowers, right?” Varric asked. The daemon nodded.

 

“Just two days ago, when we were entering the valley he picked up a rounded pebble. It had traces of iron but not enough to do anything with it.” Troy replied. “He’s hiding something.”

 

“Something, or someone.” Varric sighed. “ Who knows, he might just like collecting things he finds.”

 

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

 

“You and Cassandra always think people are either lying or hiding something. Maybe our Herald just likes flowers and rocks. Might be a Carta thing.”

 

Troy grunted a reply, going to walk beside Cassandra. Varric rubbed at the back of his neck, watching the other dwarf walk ahead of him. No boots, just those leggings that reminded him of Daisy. Kallak still wore dwarven-made armor, it was obvious from the chainmail and reinforced cotton tunic. His bow and arrows were Carta, but the hilts for the twin daggers the older dwarf hid were not.

 

That’s when Varric saw it. Behind the pointed ears, peeking out from under the worn and tattered handkerchief. They weren’t the same tattoos that crossed his scalp, they were a different ink, a different pattern. Varric knew from the Sabrae Clan that those markings were only given to certain people. Certain _Dalish_ people, not Carta dwarves.

 

“You alright Tethras?” Kallak had stopped for him, waiting at the broken bridge.

 

“I’m fine, Old Man. Why you ask?” Varric replied

 

“Well, we are by a body of water. Hate to lose you again.” Kallak gave a short laugh before walking away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all love that one asshole and their dog but this grump does not care about them. So sorry.


	4. Chapter 4

It turned out that Blackwall had no idea that the other Wardens had disappeared. Joli, his daemon said it was not unusual for them to not know about the whereabouts of the other Wardens.

 

“After all,” says the blue husky, “we recruit folk into the Order. I’m sorry we couldn’t be of anymore help.”

 

“I’m sure ya are,” answers Kallak, “but that still don’t mean shit for us. Thanks for your time.”

 

Kallak was just walking away when the man called back.

 

“Inquisition… agent did you say?” Blackwall was hesitant, but Joli, the blue husky, seemed to be guiding him to speak more.

 

“The Divine is dead and the sky is torn. Events like these, thinking we’re absent is almost as bad as thinking we’re involved.”

 

“Go on.” Kallak crossed his arms.

 

“Maybe you do need a Warden- you need us.” Joli answered.

 

“What’s one warden going to do.” muttered Troy, Cassandra coughed to try to cover up her daemon’s distaste.

 

“Save the world if fucking pressed.” Blackwall says.

 

Kallak sighed, rubbing his grey goatee again. He looked at the man in front of him. He had been out here for how long, not knowing that the rest of his Order had disappeared. It seemed odd, but the Inquisition was desperate. _The more people that can help, then the easier it’ll be for me to leave when the Breach is closed._

 

“Warden Blackwall, welcome to the Inquisition.” Kallak reached out his hand for the bearded human to take.

 

Blackwall had a firm handshake, but Kallak noticed that he was still tense. His daemon’s tail was wagging, the only sign that this man was happy.

 

“We’ll see you at Haven.”

 

* * *

 

They had returned to Haven, only for a fight in front of the Chantry to welcome them. Kallak could feel himself growing older and went to help the commander. The crowd was watching as Chancellor Roderick talked down to the ex-Templar.

 

“Now listen here, _chanter_ ,” began Kallak, glaring at Roderick, “if you have something to actually contribute- like blankets or food- then start handing them out. If I wanted to listen to you moan and complain about the snow I’ll come looking for you.”

 

“I beg your pardon? Is this who the Inquisition chooses to follow?”

 

“No, but it ain’t gonna follow an empty windbag who’s too overdressed and undermining what little stability we have in camp. As for the rest of the ya! Worry about those who’re still around, either help your so called brothers and sisters or you can go take a hike! There’s a lovely view of that hole in the sky just up the mountain! Ya can bicker with the spirit demons on who’s fault it is.”

 

The crowd was in shock, but dispersed. Chancellor Roderick was fuming, his face red from anger. Cullen gave orders to his men, his mutt daemon standing guard in front of Roderick.

 

“Mark my words, Herald, that this-”

 

“Oh go shove it Roderick, I’ve got a splinter in my foot that’s more important than your rant.” Kallak growled.

 

Cullen turned his attention on the dwarf as the Chancellor walked away in disgust. He chuckled, his daemon coming up to place her head into the palm of his hand.

 

“Normally I would thank you for that, but did you have to be so blunt?” Cullen asked.

 

Kallak shrugged, his face still harsh, as if it could burn a hole into the air. Cullen’s Daemon, Lyna, snickered at the dwarf.

 

“As if you weren’t too far from doing the exact same thing, Cullen.”

 

“I would have been… diplomatic.”

 

“Oh I’m sure, just like how we were in Kirkwall.” Lyna stretched her paws.

 

Kallak raised an eyebrow, then cursed when he had to raise his head to look Cullen in the eye.

 

“Why are humans so damn tall? I’m gonna get a crick in the neck from all of this.”

 

“Better than a hunch, like someone,” Lyna replied

 

“Lyna…”

 

“I’m not the only one! Josephine told you to watch your posture around nobles, but did you listen?”

 

“Better listen to your daemon,” joked Kallak, “Otherwise when you get my age ya won’t be able to do anything without a cane.”

 

Cullen gave a heavy sigh as his daemon and the dwarf continued to tease him. Kallak then noticed that Lyna’s eyes were a certain shade of blue.

 

“Lyna, uh. Your eyes.”

 

“What about them?” Lyna cocked her head, one of her ears pointing upward from the motion.

 

“They’re blue, lass.” Kallak deadpanned. “Lyrium blue.”

 

“I suppose you don’t have a lot of personal experience with Templars then,” began Cullen. “Templars gain their abilities from lyrium. One of the side effects is that our daemons change.”

 

“My eyes are blue because of the lyrium Cullen takes,” Lyna began to scratch behind her ear. “I can also travel further than most daemons can from their counterparts. It’s part of our training when we became a Templar.”

 

Kallak nodded at the explanation. “So I suppose Seeker Pentaghast and Troy have the same training, right?”

 

Lyna and Cullen at each other, and then back at Kallak.

 

“Troy is different than I am,” Lyna said, “He can travel incredible distances from Cassandra, almost as a far as mages daemons. But-”

 

“Seekers don’t take lyrium.” Cullen continued, “their power comes from something else. Faith or what have you.”

 

“You don’t know where Cassandra gets her powers?” Kallak asked. “No, wait. Of course you don’t, she’s a Seeker. They have their secrets and no one else can.”

 

“Kallak, it’s not like that.” Lyna sighed, “I don’t think even they really know why that is the case. Troy never wants to leave Cassandra’s side, so it doesn’t affect them.”

 

Kallak held onto the anger for a moment longer, then released his breath. Cullen walked toward the Chantry’s doors with the Herald.

 

The meeting that followed, discussing what Mother Giselle had said about going to Val Royeaux, and the treaties that Warden Blackwall lent towards the Inquisition, filled the rest of evening. Kallak couldn’t help but notice that Cassandra seemed to lead the discussions, being the real leader that this organization needed. Troy would sit in a corner, watching his counterpart. He suddenly felt like an outsider.

 

 _That’s what you are though,_ he thought. _Cullen leads the army, Leliana the spies. Josephine can handle diplomats and Cassandra declared this Inquisition. You’re only here because of the mark. The moment the Breach is sealed, you gotta get out of here._

 

His mind wandered back to the city of Ostwick, of who was waiting for him. Saare was growing older, in the middle of one of her growth spurts. Her daemon, Ashi, has yet to settle, but the Valo Kas said it would be soon. Kallak wanted to be there when it happened. He wanted to be able to send her off before her first real contract with the Valo Kas was signed. He scratched at the massive scar across his face. A soft smile crossed his face in the meeting, remembering how he got the scar.

 

_Saare is barely six years old, sitting across from him in front of the fire. Amaranthine is two days from here, they’ll catch a boat to Ostwick, to home. Kallak still can’t believe that this girl is following him. She has a bowl in her hands, mixing some of the dried plants and powder she kept in a small pouch. Her right hand is covered in the liquid armour her kind wears. She drew crude patterns on her face and legs, the mud from the road mixing in at her ankles._

 

_Saare looked up from the fire, and gave a big smile. Kallak chuckled and went back to fiddling with his bow. Suddenly the qunari girl sat right next to him, holding the bowl._

 

_“Shok.”_

 

_“No lass, my name is Kallak.”_

 

_Vigorous nodding made some of her hair fall out of the already loose braid._

 

_“Shok!”_

 

_“Alright lass, what is it.”_

 

_Saare took her right hand, running it across his face. Her grin gets bigger and Kallak can see the girl’s baby teeth, sharp and pointed._

 

_“Beres.” Saare pointed at the bowl._

 

_“Shok.” pointing at Kallak._

 

_“Beres-Shok!”_

 

“Herald? Are you alright?” Josephine asked. Her ferret daemon stood on her shoulders, it’s fur blending in with the golden sleeves.

 

“Course, why you ask?”

 

“You are smiling. You have never smiled like that.” Leliana replies. Her crow daemon flutters their wings from the banisters.

 

“Just, thinking. Yeah.” Kallak coughed and covered his mouth. He made a mental note to write a letter to his daughter when the meeting was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if it wasn't obvious by now, Kallak adopted a qunari near Aramanthine a few years back. Her name is Saare, T called her "Tall One" way back in Chapter 1. Kallak's big iconic scar is b/c Saare put vitaar on his face. They were both in for a shock when he nearly died from the poisoning. Dads don't really get that mad about stuff like that.
> 
> No they just remember it in the middle of Cassandra saying they should leave for Val Royeaux and ask you if you're okay with that. Classic grumpy dwelf dad. Yell at people and then remember when your daughter nearly killed you by accident. Good Times.


	5. Chapter 5

Val Royeaux was mourning, if Kallak were to believe Cassandra. In truth it looked more like the festivals that the nobles would throw in the fall in Ostwick. Even the alienage would have music and banners, some of the noble families giving the excess of their feasts to the lower classes. The seasons were changing, maybe preparations for the festivals were already in place-

 

Someone just screamed, and before Kallak could even ask what’s happened, some human noble woman responded “It’s the Herald!” with as much enthusiasm as one who just saw a rat at the dinner table.

 

“Just a guess Seeker,” said Varric, “but I think they know who we are.”

 

Kallak glanced back, catching Solas eye. The elf shrugged. Kallak chuckled and shook his head, moving forward.

 

A scout informed them what was waiting for them in the city. Kallak was only half paying attention. Cassandra was angry with the fact that Templars had arrived, and that the city thought they needed protection from the Inquisition.

 

“Protect them from me, more like.” Kallak said.

 

“Is no one going to point out that out of the four of us, only Cassandra has a daemon with her?” Solas replied. Kallak felt his spine stiffen as Varric snorted.

 

“Why would that be a problem.” Varric grumbled.

 

“Because Orlesians don’t just like their masks. They like their daemons, and folk who hide theirs-or don’t even have any- are unwelcomed.” Kallak answered.

 

“Well, shit.” Varric replied

 

“...Ah, fuck it. The Chantry preachers wanna see the feared Herald? Let ‘em, I ain’t hiding shit.”

 

Kallak walked forward, noting the hidden alleys and all the exits in the market. Troy took to walking between him and Cassandra. It was a habit now, one Kallak didn’t really mind anymore. The dwarf had only been to Orlais a few times, but never anywhere near their cities. The streets were marbled and doorways had delicate designs, the crafting for even a handle must have taken someone weeks to do. What was familiar to him were the guards.

 

Blue and Red Gambesons, the house crests of the nobles they served embroidered on their chests and oriented masks that doubled as ceremonial helmets. Lesser nobles and chantry scribes murmured with one another, the Chant of Light the furthest thing from their lips. The closer they got to the square, however, the more that Kallak heard people talking about it him.

“BEHOLD! THE FALSE PROPHET!” Kallak never paid attention to the difference between Chantry members robes, his dealings in the past let him know that the loudest one was in charge, or being kicked out. The elderly woman on the podium was most likely the former. She went on to decry the Inquisition, Cassandra yelling back. Troy growled at the Sister’s daemon, a petite Siamese cat, who hissed and yowled right back at the Doberman. Kallak ignored them, his eyes wandering from cleric to cleric. Song birds and felines whispered to their counterparts, but he had yet to see anyone with a sword outside of the Orlesian chevaliers and the guardsmen outside the square.

 

Marching feet came from the docks, it appeared that the Templars had made an appearance. An older man with a hardened hunting dog daemon led them.  A Templar scribe hit the Chantry woman who moments ago was arguing with Cassandra.

 

“HEY!” Kallak was barely aware that he had shouted. The leader looked as if he had a speech prepared, only to just notice the dwarf.

 

“Well, well. If it isn’t the so-called ‘Herald of Andraste’. Here I came to see what frightens old women so, and it appears it is just a dwarf.”

 

“So I guess not only do Templars go around killing innocents but also making cripples of their elders!”

 

“At least we do not lift a daemon-less criminal as our saviour.” said Lord Seeker Lucius

 

Troy tried to jump onto the podium to help the Chantry mother up, but the hunting dog snapped at him. The crowd was focused on the Lord Seeker and the dwarf Herald. The two men glared at one another for a tense moment.

 

“We have come to let one thing become perfectly clear,” started the hunting dog.

 

“Susanna-” Growled Troy, “what are you and the Lord Seeker doing?”

 

“The Chantry will no longer have the protection of the Templars.” finished Lucius. “We leave to purge the world of mages, to bring balance and restore order to Thedas.”

 

“Are you insane?!? There is a fucking hole in the sky, and you’re just gonna ignore it for this?” Kallak turned his attention to the rest of the Templars. One knight, his daemon a Short-hair Pointer, was looking at him.

 

“Templars,” said Kallak, “Why don’t you lot do something meaningful for a change. Join us, help the Inquisition, seal the Breach!” _Why the fuck did I just say that._

 

The Lord Seeker laughed, his daemon Susanna mimicking him. A short and harsh command and the Templars were gone. Troy waited until Susanna was beside the Lord Seeker again before going to help the fallen Chantry Mother. Cassandra tried to follow the Lucius.

 

“Lord Seeker-”

 

“Do Not. Address. Me.”

 

“Sir!”

 

“You are a traitor to our cause,” Lucius turned to snarl at Cassandra’s face, “You are a disgrace.”

 

Kallak watched from a distance, the crowd that was moments ago wanting to hang him now dispersed. The young Templar from before coughed, causing Kallak to jump at the sound.

 

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to frighten you.” the short-hair shuffled next to her person, her lyrium blue eyes apologetic.

 

“I’m Sir Barris, this is Lily. I heard what you had to say. Not every Templar thinks this is the right thing you know. If you’re wanting our help, come to Therinfal Keep.” Lily and Sir Barris bristly walked off, passing Cassandra who still stood where the Lord Seeker had snapped at her. Troy walked towards her, putting his head under her hand.

 

“Well, I suppose that went better than expected.”

 

“In what scenario was that ‘better than expected’, Solas?”

 

“An ill-timed public execution of our only key to salvation, Herald.”

 

“He told you his name was Kallak, Chuckles.”, Varric added. The three of them watched Cassandra and Troy. The two looked to be talking, so Kallak filled in Solas and Varric on what Sir Barris had just offered. The three men stood there, in the middle of the square. An elven apostate, a merchant dwarf with his shirt open and a crossbow on his back, and Kallak. A dwarf with pointed ears and no shoes. He looked down at his feet, the only thing that looked earthy. Next to the marbled walk paths of Val Royeaux, even next to Solas own pale feet, he was out of place. Kallak glanced sideways at Varric. The blonde dwarf was broader than Kallak, from here he noticed that Varric was behind in his shaving, the stylized five o’clock shadow was starting to look more like a untrimmed scruff.

 

Kallak brought his hand up to his own goatee, checking to make sure his braided sideburns were still in place. He felt the tiny beads on the edge of his chin, the greying tufts hidden under the goatee. His hand went up to his scalp. The dwarf shaved his head to show off his Carta tattoos, but also because he was balding severely. Kallak felt Solas looking at him oddly, to which he grunted and adjusted his green handkerchief that was wrapped around his neck.

 

Kallak moved toward Cassandra and Troy, wanting to comfort the woman. Just as he was about to say something an arrow struck the ground. It landed a good foot away from them but Troy had jumped at the resounding _thwak_ that the arrow had made. Kallak sighed, his exhaustion and anger from the day bleeding into his actions.

 

“Looks like a note.” grumbled Kallak, “Something about a Red Jenny. Perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow but Steady wins the race. So does Uni getting in the way of writing this long ass binch.


End file.
